Secret's Out
by calgarry
Summary: In which Jo finds out Henry's secret, in the worst possible way.


Abraham Morgan was, generally speaking, a patient man. Living with an immortal had given him a certain appreciation of the benefits of taking one's time in life. In fact, there were very few situations which would make Abe impatient.

Dealing with difficult customers was one of these situations.

Not that Abe would ever complain about having customers – they kept him in business – but every once in a while, someone would come along who would well and truly test his ability to keep his cool.

Late one Thursday afternoon, Abe found himself dealing with one such client. It had started harmlessly enough: they had called the shop to enquire about a certain piece of furniture they had seen there the previous week. It was only after Abe had tried to explain that it had been sold that the customer became difficult.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't just order another one in," he was saying for what felt like the fiftieth time, when he heard the familiar sound of the bell over the shop door jangling from behind him.

_Thank God_, Abe thought. "Sorry, sir, but I gotta go. Got a customer here to attend to." He practically threw the handset back onto the receiver, before the customer could say anything more; or, heaven forbid, arrange to call back later.

He turned towards the door, his customer-helping smile in place. He was surprised, therefore, to see Henry in the doorway, ushering Detective Jo Martinez through the door into the shop. Abe noticed that Jo seemed a little shell-shocked.

"Hello," he said in a tone of surprise, starting forwards towards the two. As he neared them, he realised that Henry's hair was wet, which in Abe's experience was rarely a good sign. "I wasn't expecting you back yet, Henry," he continued nonetheless, mostly for Jo's benefit. "Did you go swimming?" It was a code they often used, when other people might be listening.

"Yes, I'm afraid I did," Henry said wearily. "It was rather unexpected."

Abe nodded, his suspicions confirmed: Henry had died that day.

As he watched, Henry raised a hand to help Jo through the door. She jerked her arm away from him in an unconscious action, and Henry stepped back a half-step, distancing himself from her.

Abe now realised that Henry was wearing a boiler suit, which he had certainly _not_ been wearing when he had left for work that morning. A new suspicion began to grow in his mind, involving Henry and Jo. He chose not to ask about it, however, instead saying, "Well, this is a nice surprise. Is this a business or a social call?"

"Social, I think," Henry replied. He glanced at Jo, who was standing stock-still in the middle of the shop, staring blankly at a wall. It was as if she had seen a ghost. "I think we'd better go upstairs," Henry continued. "We have…certain matters to discuss. And I think some tea might be in order," he suggested.

Abe nodded. "I'm on it." He headed towards the shop door, passing Henry as he led Jo towards the stairs at the back of the shop. Abe closed the door and began to turn the key in the lock, when a woman appeared in the doorway. "Sorry, ma'am, but I'm closing," he said through the door.

The woman held up her wallet in response, and pointed to a miniature horse displayed in the window. Abe looked at the horse, then glanced behind him, to where Henry was guiding Jo up the stairs. He looking back at the woman. Surely one small purchase wouldn't hurt…

Two minutes later, he walked into the living room to see Henry guiding Jo to an armchair and sitting her down. "I'm going to go and get changed," he told her, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Are you going to be all right?"

Jo nodded slowly, looking at him warily. Henry nodded and headed off to his bedroom, giving Abe a meaningful look as he went past.

Abe nodded in understanding, and took a couple of steps towards Jo. "So," he said, his voice lighter than he felt. "How's things?"

Jo said nothing. She was frowning to herself, as if trying to work out the answer to a difficult problem in her head.

Abe tried again. "I was going to make a cup of tea. How do you take it?"

She looked at him then, staring as if she had never seen him before, or perhaps it was seeing him in a new light. "I…I don't drink tea," she said eventually, her voice slightly hoarse.

"It will help," Abe told her. "Trust me." He walked past her into the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil, then went to the cupboard to get the rest of the ingredients for tea.

He walked back into the living room a couple of minutes later, carefully balancing the three steaming mugs of tea between his two hands. He placed one on the table in front of Jo, and gave one to Henry, who was sitting on one sofa in his customary suit. Abe sat on the other sofa with the third mug, blowing on it slightly before taking a sip.

Jo was sitting stiffly now, not looking at either of the men. Henry appeared to be more at ease beside her, although his frequent glances towards Jo told Abe that his father was more nervous than he was letting on.

They sat in silence like that for several minutes. Eventually, Jo reached forward and picked up the mug of tea in front of her. She took a sip, and grimaced; as well she should, as Abe had prepared his special strong brew for the occasion. Henry sometimes claimed that it was even stronger than Abe's hangover cure. Nonetheless, Jo took a further sip, then another.

Seeing that Jo was drinking, Abe decided it was the right time to ask, "So what happened?"

Jo look up at him, then at Henry. He nodded to Jo. "What do you think happened, Detective?" His voice was still gentle, making sure not to startle her any more than she already was.

Jo swallowed, licking her lips. "I don't know," she said eventually. "I mean, I do think I know what happened, but it's…impossible. It seems crazy."

Abe leaned forward. "Just try and tell us," he said encouragingly. "We won't judge you."

Jo nodded, and took a deep breath. "Well," she began, "Henry and I were chasing a murderer, down by the East River. We split up, and then I found the guy, and I was trying to let Henry know without the criminal knowing. But then he heard me, and he turned around, and he had a gun. We didn't know he had one, it all happened so fast…he was pointing the pistol at me, and I was reaching for my sidearm, but it was too late. And then Henry came out of nowhere…"

In her mind's eye Jo saw the scene, as if in slow motion. She saw herself, staring into the eyes of a hardened killer. She saw him pull the trigger, and she knew she was gone.

Then from her left, Henry jumped out of the bushes. He seemed to fly through the air in front of her, scarf fluttering behind him. The scene might have been comical, if there hadn't been a gun pointing at them.

The bullet had hit Henry in the chest mid-leap, and he had fallen to the ground with a _thump_. Without thinking, Jo shot two bullets at the gunman, and he went down.

Jo had tossed her gun to the side at that point, and knelt down next to where Henry lay on the ground, barely breathing. She cradled his head in her arms, unable to stop tears forming in her eyes as she spoke soothingly to him, one hand on his chest in a vain attempt to stop the blood from flowing. She had called an ambulance, but both of them knew that Henry wouldn't last long enough for it to arrive. He was moving his lips urgently, and she bent down to listen to what she was sure would be his last words.

_"Don't be alarmed, Detective…I'm sorry…"_

And then he had gone. He simply disappeared from her arms.

Jo looked around in confusion, before she was distracted a moment later by a splashing sound from the river beside her. She turned her head to see Henry in the water, gasping for air, and her mouth gaped in shock.

In the present, sitting on Abe and Henry's armchair, Jo finished her story with a sigh. "Like I said, it's impossible. I must have been dreaming, or something." She looked down at her cup of tea, now only half-full.

Abe and Henry exchanged a grim look. "I'm afraid, detective, that you were completely awake," Henry said. "You did, in fact, watch me die about an hour ago. I apologise for that again, by the way. But your memory is entirely correct."

Jo stared at him uncomprehendingly. She had been half-expecting him to say that, although she found herself unprepared. All she could think to say was, "What?"

Abe leaned forwards. "Every time Henry dies," he explained, "he wakes up a moment later in the closest large body of water. In New York, that's the East River."

"And I'm always naked," Henry added, "hence the public indecency charges. I also apologise for that."

She shook her head, still frowning at him. "So you never die?"

"Oh, I always die," Henry assured her. "But every time I do, I wake up again."

"How is that possible?"

"I have no idea," he told her honestly. "Something happened a long time ago, and I was transformed. Since then, my life has been just like yours, except for one small difference – it never ends."

Jo raised an eyebrow. "A long time ago? How long has this been happening?"

"Ah." Henry had been afraid she would ask that. He laced his fingers together, steeling himself. "It's difficult to say, really," he began. "With not ageing, you tend to lose track of time after the first couple of decades, and so much has happened-"

"Henry," Jo said firmly, looking into his eyes. "How old are you?"

He met her gaze steadily. "Around two hundred and thirty-five years old."

He had expected surprise, shock even. Perhaps shouting: that had happened before, when he told people. But Jo did not react. Instead, she studied his face for a few moments. "I guess that explains why you know so much." she said eventually.

Henry let out a sigh of relief. "Yes, it probably does," he said, exchanging a glance with Abe over Jo's shoulder.

"If you're over two hundred years old, though," Jo marvelled at how casually she was able to say it, "then Abe isn't a friend of your father's, is he?"

She looked at Abe, who nodded in confirmation. He rolled up his sleeve. "Henry and Abigail found me after the war ended," he said, showing her the tattoo on his arm. "After Auschwitz was liberated, they adopted me, and brought me up."

"Wait," Jo said, frowning yet again. "Henry's your father?"

"I am," Henry said.

To both his and Abe's surprise, Jo let out a giggle. She covered her mouth immediately. "Sorry," she said. "It's just that people have been assuming that you two were in a different kind of relationship, if you know what I mean." Her eyes flicked between the two men, suddenly worried that she might have offended them.

"What?" Abe exclaimed in mock-outrage. "I look old enough to be his father!"

"I _am_ his father!" Henry said in the same tone, but he was grinning.

Jo relaxed slightly, realising they were joking. "There may be a small bet going around the office at work," she added.

Henry and Abe exchanged an amused glance. "And did you just win or lose, Detective?" Henry asked.

"I plead the fifth amendment," she said lightly, and smirked.

Henry smiled, and Abe began to chuckle. And just like that, the spell was broken, and the three of them were laughing together like old friends.

After the laughter her died down, Jo smiled into her mug. She realised that she was feeling more at ease around Henry than she had in a while, now that he had told her everything. And as improbable as his story seemed, she found herself believing him. She had always known that there was something different about Henry, from his mannerisms to his encyclopaedic knowledge of everything, especially death. But there was still something that didn't quite make sense.

"Why death, Henry?" she said eventually, raising her eyes to meet his. "Why do you know so much about it? When I asked you before, you said you were trying to uncover the secret of why we die, but that's not quite true, is it?"

Henry considered the question for a moment, wrapping his hands around his now-lukewarm mug. "Over the years," he said finally, "you could say I've become a student of death. I need to find a key to unlock my curse."

Jo looked at him uncomprehendingly. "You want to die?" She noticed Abe's mouth tightening into a straight line as she spoke, and he looked away from her and Henry. She wondered if she had touched a nerve. It made sense, she thought, suddenly feeling bad for bringing up the topic. After all, Henry was his father.

"I wouldn't say that, not really," Henry as saying. "It's more that I want to be _able_ to die. I want to have that potential, to know that at any moment it could all be over. To experience the fragility of life. Does that make sense?"

Jo nodded slowly. "I guess so," she said. Then, "Is that why you work at a morgue? To continue your studying?"

Henry's mouth twitched. "It is a little-known fact," he told her, "that the New York City Medical Examiner's Office holds the largest collection of slightly-chilled corpses in the world. If your game is death," he said lightly, "you go where the action is."

Jo couldn't hold back a small grin at Henry's attempt at gallows humour. Even Abe cracked a faint smile.

"Besides," Henry continued in a more serious tone, "I've become attached to the people there." He smiled at her, and Jo realised he meant her. "To be honest, I've been trying to tell you the truth about my…condition for a while," he admitted.

"Tell me about it," Abe murmured.

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this," Henry continued as if Abe had not spoken. "I know it must have been a shock, to see me die like that. But I must say, most people do not react as well as you have done."

"Who else have you told?" Jo asked. "Abe knows, of course, and you must have told Abigail…" She trailed off when she noticed that both men's expressions had hardened. Henry seemed sad, or possibly angry; while Abe looked as if he was recalling a bad taste.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I was being nosy. I'll stop."

"No, your curiosity is understandable," Henry assured her. "You are correct in assuming that Abigail knew. I also told my first wife, Nora, in 1815."

"1815," Jo repeated quietly. She realised that she had not completely grasped the implications of Henry being alive for so long. "How did Nora take the news?"

Henry paused for a long moment before replying. "She had me sent to Bedlam Hospital, where I was tortured in an attempt to cure me of my madness," he said in a deceptively light tone.

"I'm so sorry," was all Jo could think of to say. She tried very hard not to imagine Henry being tortured.

"It was a long time ago," he said, although it was clear that he was still not over it.

After that revelation, Jo decided it would be best not to ask about Abigail. Instead, she turned to Abe. "So what's it like, having an immortal father?" she asked conversationally.

Abe barked out a short laugh. "It's okay," he said, "even if he refuses to move out. His antiques keep me in business, though, so that's something."

Jo gaped. "All that stuff downstairs is yours?" she asked Henry, who nodded.

"In a different life. Now it all belongs to Abraham." He glanced over fondly at his son, who grinned back at him.

"Only because you know I can sell it. You never could match up to my retail skills."

"Nor did I ever want to," Henry pointed out. "That's very much your area."

Jo watched them quietly. Now she knew the truth about their relationship, she could see how Henry looked at Abe as one would a son, and vice versa. They were certainly a very close family, which was partly what had led to the rumours about them in the first place.

She wondered idly whether things would be different tomorrow, now that she knew Henry's secret. Would they be able to work together in the same way? Would she still feel the need to protect him from criminals?

Jo supposed that only time would tell.

* * *

The next day at work, Jo Martinez and Mike Hanson walked into the morgue to see Henry standing over a body. "What have we got?" Mike asked, striding up to the slab. "Anything exciting?"

"I'm afraid not, detective," Henry said, glancing up from the autopsy. "This appears to be a simple case of cardiac arrest."

"Oh," Mike said, sounding somewhat deflated. "Are you sure?"

"Perfectly," Henry said, holding up the heart as evidence. "The deceased had a history of lung cancer, and had suffered a heart attack before. Sorry to have wasted your time, detectives," he said, dropping the heart into a bowl which Lucas hastily held out.

"That's okay, Henry," Jo said. "Better than paperwork, which is all we'd be doing in the office anyway."

"Thanks again, doc," Mike said, and headed towards the door, Jo following behind.

The two detectives were halfway across the room when they heard a voice call from behind them. "Detective Martinez?"

Jo turned her head, as did several other people in the morgue: Henry had a loud voice when he wanted to. She raised her eyebrows in response.

"I'm afraid you left your mobile phone at my flat last night," Henry continued at the same volume. "It's on that table if you want it." He gestured to a table across the room with one blood-stained glove.

The room was silent, everyone looking between the two of them. Jo flushed red, feeling the heat creep up her neck. She stalked over to the table, shooting Henry a look that plainly said _I'm going to kill you_, and picked up her phone from amongst the various medical instruments.

She walked back to the door, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room on her as she did so. Jo pushed past Mike in her hurry to get out, refusing to look him in the eye.

Henry watched her go, a mischievous smile on his face. If there were already rumours about him, then what was the harm in causing a few more?

Mike caught up to Jo in the elevator, where she stood silently, arms folded. He stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for their floor, turning to face the doors as they slid closed.

They had only gone up half a floor when Jo broke the silence. "Don't," was all she said.

Mike glanced across at her, his face the very picture of innocence. "I wasn't going to," he said. He looked ahead again, fighting back a grin. "I'm sure you had a very good reason for being at Henry's flat last night."

"I did," she said shortly.

"Right," Mike said. There was a pause, then he added, "And I'm sure there wasn't anything untoward about it."

"There wasn't." God, she was going to _murder_ Henry. Then she was going to go down to the river, haul his sorry ass out, and murder him again…

Suddenly, Jo remembered the bet, and began to smile. She glanced up at the scrolling number display above the lift buttons. Only two floors left to go.

"Actually," she said conversationally, turning to Mike, keeping an eye on the floor display, "I had a very illuminating conversation with Henry and Abe last night."

"Oh?" Mike inquired politely.

One floor to go. "Yeah," Jo said. "I learned a lot."

"What did you learn?" he asked. It was difficult to tell whether he believed her, or if he was humouring her.

Jo grinned. "I learned that you owe me twenty bucks." The doors slid open with a _ding_, and Jo walked out. She heard Mike swear from behind her, and she grinned. Maybe Henry's actions weren't all bad. Although she would have to have a serious talk with him about what was acceptable to say in front of a room full of colleagues.


End file.
